


Together In Paris

by sassycordy



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Anastasia Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Day Two, M/M, Taegi Week 2019, jeongguk is a child sorry, taejin are brothers - Freeform, this is basically the movie + the broadway musical + my own imagination
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 06:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19762570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassycordy/pseuds/sassycordy
Summary: tae is an orphan who is determined to find his family, yoongi is a con artist haunted by tragedy, and namseok might finally get their happy ending.aka a taegi anastasia au





	Together In Paris

**Author's Note:**

> alright let's all pretend this isn't 200 years late ok? ok! i was originally going to make this a one-shot but I ended up just splitting it into 3 different parts so be on the lookout for the rest of the chapters! anyways just a quick warning that this is not historically accurate whatsoever and I am merely taking most of the core story from the animated Anastasia move from 1997, the musical and the rest is from my imagination. hope you guys enjoy!

Tae wakes with a start. Panting heavily, he dizzly stares up at the cracked dark grey ceiling, feeling a trickle of sweat sliding down his brow. _‘This one was a lot.’_ Taking a deep breath and attempting to calm his racing heart, Tae squeezes his eyes shut tightly, desperately trying to recall any details from his nightmare.

For as long as he could remember, he had dreams of the strangest things. Most of the time, they were blurry, indiscernible images with distorted noises echoing in the background. Although he had no idea what they meant, they always left him feeling deeply unsettled.

This night was no different. The eerie sounds of a mocking crowd and a train’s horn shrieking were the only specific things he could recall. Everything else was too jumbled up to make any sense. Ignoring the dull, pounding ache in his brain already looming threateningly, Tae slowly pushes himself into a sitting position.

He can’t afford to be sick or afraid of what is to come. Today is the day that would change everything. He has been waiting _years_ for this.

Subconsciously, he brings a shaky hand up to toy with the delicate necklace hanging around his neck. _‘Together in Paris’_ the words he spends hours repeating, over and over until they were engraved in the inmost part of his mind.

Running his fingers over the smooth, glossy surface, he gradually begins to calm down, no longer feeling like he was being suffocated by the hand of death enclosing around his neck. Humming a familiar lullaby softly under his breath, a broad smile grows on Tae’s face. _‘Today is gonna be the day that I start my journey to finally find answers.’_

“Hyung!” The piercing scream is the only warning he gets as the thin, rickety door is flung open. The wailing culprit launches himself into Tae’s unprepared arms amongst his mess of blankets on the cold floor. Letting out a grunt of surprise, he freezes for a moment, the distraught child clinging to him onto him for dear life.

“W-what? Is something the matter?” Tae smooths the top of the child’s head, subtly trying to catch a glimpse at his face. The child weeps, and after a lot of coaxing, he reluctantly moves his face away from Tae’s chest. The distressed eyes of a pouting Jeongguk stare back at him unhappily. “Ggukkie what’s wrong?”

Jeongguk’s bottom lip trembles at the question, his wide eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Hyung, h-how can you ask me that? You’re leavin’ me today,” Jeongguk cries sadly.

His small chubby hands clumsily brush away his tears, smearing them all over his face. Even with tears and snot all over, Jeongguk still somehow manages to look cute. Burrowing himself deeper into Tae's chest, Jeongguk weeps louder.

“Hey, Gukkie c’ mon don’t cry! Look at me - hey - see it’s okay, we’re okay,” Tae whispers, using a piece of his torn blanket to clean Jeongguk’s face. Jeongguk petulantly sniffles, yet patiently holds still, pouting silently. “I know this is gonna be hard, but hyung has to go. Gukkie, you’re going to have to be brave while hyung is gone, okay?”

At Tae’s words, Jeonggukk looks down, crestfallen. “But I’m going to make a promise to you, my favorite dongsaeng.” Tae murmurs, gently ruffling Jeongguk’s hair, trying to get him to meet his gaze. “I promise that I’ll come back after I find my family and I won’t ever leave ya again.”

“Really h-hyung? You promise?” Jeongguk’s eyes snapped up to face Tae, his tears magically stopping. At this moment, Tae didn’t care about the logistics of things, he just knew that he couldn’t leave Jeongguk to waste away his childhood in this suffocating place - like he did.

“Yeah, I _pinky_ promise, Gukkie,” Tae wraps his pinky around Jeongguk’s, softly chuckling at their considerable size difference. Jeongguk giggles, all traces of sadness disappearing as he begins to animatedly talk about his latest swashbuckling dream in some exotic, far away country.

Tae listens intently, nodding along to Jeongguk’s wild imagination. He had been at the all-boys orphanage for as long as he could remember and yet Jeongguk was the only other person he felt a connection with. Staring at Jeongguk’s bright, innocent smile, Tae’s heart clenches tightly. _‘I won’t leave him here for long. And when I come back, I’ll take him far away from this hell.’_

The shrill ringing of the morning wake-up bell sounds throughout the ancient, brick building. Jeongguk stops his rambling, scrunching his nose at the rude interruption. Signaling for the morning chores to start, the bell continues to clang obnoxiously.

Rising up to his feet, Tae shrugs on his large coat and grey newsboy hat, slipping on his fingerless gloves while Jeongguk watches him quietly. He makes quick work of folding his blankets into a neat pile. Making sure his meager savings and belongings are tucked into his coat pocket safely, Tae takes a deep breath - time to go.

“C’mon Ggukie, you gotta start doing your chores. Don’t wanna get you in trouble with the Matron ya?” Tae bends down to lightly kiss Jeongguk’s head before giving him a little push towards the door. The last thing Tae wanted was to cause Jeongguk to be late for his morning chores and receive a punishment.

Jeongguk nods dejectedly, lifting up to his pinky, a wordless reminder of their promise. Tae cracks a smile at the gesture, raising his pinky up as validation. Jeongguk giggles happily as he turns and skips out of the door, nearly running into the matron.

“Jeongguk! Get to your station, or you won’t be fed today ya hear me?” Her booming voice shouts as Jeongguk picks up his pace, his little legs hurriedly scurrying away at her threat. The matron steps into the small room, hands on her hips with her face almost as red as her hair. “Boy, didn’t I tell you to get gone by the mornin’ bell?”

Tae stuffs his hands into his pockets, the smile quickly dropping off of his face. “I was just sayin’ bye to Ggukie.” The matron scoffs at his words, shuffling over to the side, no longer blocking the exit.

“Well, then scram or imma have to drag you out by ya ears,” she shouts, her hands in fists, angrily waving around in the air. Tae nods, a pathetic last-ditch attempt to be polite, walking towards the exit.

He strolls past her, head held high. Tae excitedly reaches for the large door handle to the outside world. He hesitates for a moment, a sudden misplaced burst of nostalgia halting him as he stares at the entrance. He had no idea what to expect from the outside world. What if he didn’t find the answers he so desperately wanted?

“You’ve been a thorn in my side since you were brought here 14 years ago. Always _whining_ about your precious family and your cheap necklace,” the matron guffaws, “ _Together in Paris_ … ha! what a joke.”

Her piercing words breaking Tae out of his misplaced nostalgia spell, he throws the door wide open, the cold winter air involuntarily causing him to shiver. Stepping out into the white winter wonderland, he hastily tugs his coat closer into his body. The raspy cackles of the matron echo behind him as he slams the door shut and begins his journey, trekking through the snow.

“Whoever gave me this necklace must have loved me..” Tae mumbles, fumbling with the pendant around his neck as he forges his way down to the road. Everything around him was covered in intricate patterns of ice. Each flake swirling and dancing, as the icy winds carried it towards him.

Reaching the end of the paved road, there are two signs, each pointing in the opposite direction.

Unsure of what path he should take, he closes his eyes, praying for guidance. He needs a place to start his investigation and rest from the arduous snow. ‘ _But which way is the right way?’_ Opening his eyes, he analyzes his options.

The crude wooden sign on the right stands out like a beacon of light among the endless sea of white, the words faintly scrawled. _‘St Petersburg?’_ Tae reads, his mind scrutinizing the suggestion. “The capital would be a great place to start! At the very least, there’s bound to be lots of trains leaving to Paris.”

Straightening his posture, his head high, and with his mind set on the promising destination, he lets the necklace fall from his fingers.

“Please let this road lead me to my past..” Tae whispers, boldly heading out into the unknown.

\---

“N-nice! Yes... okay, w-well! Yes, thank you, we’ll be in touch!” Namjoon waves goodbye politely, feigning optimism. Yoongi mumbles a curse under his breath, not bothering to keep up the act. Slamming the hefty door shut, Yoongi indignantly stuffs his notes into his satchel. The moment the door closes, Namjoon drops his hand and exaggerated smile, groaning as they begin to trudge home.

“It’s over Yoongi hyung! It’s over before we’ve even started,” Namjoon complains, running a hand over his face tiredly. Yoongi huffs, tightly wrapping his scarf around his neck, trying to protect himself from the bitter cold. “We’ve held audition after audition and yet there _still_ isn’t anyone good enough to play Kim Taehyung.”

“Than we’re just going to have to hold more auditions, Joon-ah. We aren’t giving up anytime soon, especially since we have the jewelry box, the key to convincing Kim Seokjin that we found his long lost precious _dongsaeng_.”

Scoffing at Yoongi’s unfamiliar positive outlook, Namjoon huddles closer to him in a pathetic attempt at warmth. Yoongi grumbles at Namjoon’s close proximity, begrudgingly falling silent when Namjoon shoots him an unimpressed look, quickly seeing through his complaints. _‘Damn Namjoon.’_

The dreary looking town surrounds them, the somber-looking people of St. Petersburg hustling to complete their daily activities. Some of the townsfolk whisper as they pass by, while others glare and curse at them out loud. The rumors of their auditions were beginning to swirl dangerously around the capital, they needed to be more careful.

“We’re going to have to be quieter about our plans, word about our auditions is starting to spread. And it could be dangerous... not everyone wants to the Prince Taehyung to come back from the dead.” Namjoon shudders at Yoongi’s cold words, pressing into his side a little more as they reach the outside of their apartment.

Their apartment is on the second floor, with a small pawn shop they run together on the first floor. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but it was functional and served its purpose as their home base for almost 2 years. “But hyung, I’ve heard some people claim that Taehyung is actually alive and he escaped that night...”

Yoongi tenses at Namjoon’s words. Stepping away from his grasp, Yoongi moves to unlock the store door. Fumbling with the key, he tries to hide his shaking hands. A few moments of strained silence, Yoongi manages to shove the key in and turn the lock.

Ushering Namjoon in first, he tries to maintain a blank face, not wanting to show how deeply that question affected him. For years, he ran away from his past, desperate to erase all of the memories he had of the palace.

He can still picture Taehyung’s bright, box-like smile that was directed at him every time he secretly handed the prince an extra sweet after dinner. He even remembers the last time he saw Taehyung and the terrified look in his doe-eyes. Yoongi closes his eyes tightly, repressing the rest of his memories _‘I wish he were alive... And I wish it wasn’t m-’_

“Hyung..?” Namjoon asks worriedly, noticing Yoongi’s rigid posture and stony facial expression. Yoongi ignores Namjoon’s concern, shrugging off his coat, and shuffling to the stairs in the back, leading to their apartment.

Pausing on the first step, Yoongi screws his eyes shut, the boisterous, innocent laugh of the Taehyung echoing throughout his mind. The memory of the destruction and chaos of that terrible night also flit through his mind. He remembers the screams, the bloodshed, and how powerless he felt watching everything he loved turn to ash right in front of him.

“No, Joon-ah. I know for a fact that Prince Taehyung is dead,” Yoongi says flatly, yanking off his scarf and swiftly rushing up the stairs, hiding his anguished face.

\---

He made it. _Finally._ He was in St. Petersburg, the city where all of the fairytales begin. The boys at the orphanage used to tell daring tales of St. Petersburg’s might and glimmering houses filled with exquisite jewels of all colors. But the reality is something Tae could have never imagined. With the grey smoke covering the city like a wool blanket, and the deary, run-down looking houses, Tae couldn’t believe this was the capital.

After a few days of walking across Russia, the first place he decided to stop by was the train station. He needs a ticket to Paris to properly begin his search.

The city was bustling with action, people around him rushing to get to their destination. Their fatigued and hollow faces engraving themselves into Tae’s mind as he shuffled forward. Frowning, he tugs his coat a little closer to his body, the chilling air and bleak looking town sending shivers down his spine.

The train station is packed to full capacity, the sound of people yelling and arguing are almost able to drown out the loud, shrieking whistles from the locomotives. A strange, unnerving sense of claustrophobia and panic envelop Tae as he gets shoved around in the middle of the large, unrelenting crowd. His breathing became more rapid, more shallow.

_‘Something is wrong,’_ Tae thinks hazily. His breath hitches, as his hands begin to tremble slightly, standing frozen in place, unable to move. Panic rising inside of him, he blanks. His mind empties, unsure of how to deal with the sudden wave of anxiety.

“Ya! Are you crazy?!” A concerned voice shouts to his left. The commotion and displeasure seem to grow, the mob shouting louder as they begin to shove towards the front. The distorted, shrill noises of everything blend together and Tae freezes, feeling trapped almost like an unearthly, invisible hand holding him down, amongst the beginning of a riot.

_“Hey,”_ a flash of orange reaches out amongst the mass hysteria and forcefully yanks him backward. Tae gets dragged out of the panic, letting himself be manhandled to safety. Passing by the faces of the angry crowd sends shivers down his spine as he watches them yell and swear, spit flying everywhere. Something about this disturbing scene felt eerily familiar.

“ _Snap out of it._ Hey, look at me, are you okay?” A distraught voice rings out, bringing Tae out of his trance. Panting heavily, he rapidly blinks, the cloud over his mind evaporating. Regaining his focus, he finally can see two large brown eyes staring back at him.

The man was waving his hand in front of Tae’s face with a worried expression on his face. Seeing Tae refocus, the man leans back with a small smile. “Whew glad to see you’re back.”

The screams of outrage fade into the background, as the orange haired man tugs him even further away, noticing Tae’s distraught expression when he sees the commotion. “Ya don’t go spacing out again, these are dangerous times - you gotta stay alert.”

Tae nods, gulping profoundly, trying to return to normal. “T-thanks for s-saving me back there… That’s never really happened to me before…” The man nods unsurely, letting his arms drop, no longer clenching Tae’s bicep.

“Of course it’s no prob’em at all. Names Jimin what’s yours?” Jimin asks curiously, sticking out his hand in a gesture of goodwill. Tae, feeling a little embarrassed over his unexpected panic, gladly leans closer and firmly shakes Jimin hand.

“My name is Tae, I guess you can tell I’m new in town, huh?” Tae chuckles bashfully, a light blush dusting his cheeks, his left hand going to scratch the back of his neck. Jimin’s crescent smile seems to grow even more prominent at the shy gesture.

“Course I can tell! Everyone’ round these parts knows the train station is a ticking time bomb. It’s impossible to get a ticket out of this hell hole right now,” Jimin shoves his gloveless hands into his pockets, shuddering at the cold blast of wind. Tae finally pauses, taking the time to analyze his new friend.

The man was shorter than him by a few inches and similarly wearing multiple layers. His bright orange hair stood out amongst the rest of his bland clothing. The muted tones of dark grey and black seem to blend in with the rest of the drab colors that surround them.

“Where were ya even planning on going?” Jimin inquires good-naturedly, his dark brown eyes analyzing him. Tae warily tenses, he wasn’t stupid, he was in the big city now he can’t be giving out information to any random stranger he meets. But strangely, he felt compelled to trust this man. Noticing Tae’s stiff reaction, Jimin rushes to explain.

“You don’t have to answer if ya don’t want to, I get it. Times are tough, and you can’t trust any ol’ handsome stranger.” Jimin shrugs politely, sending Tae a teasing smile.

“N-no no it’s not that. You saved my life,” Tae pauses for a moment, letting out a resigned breathe. “I want to find my family, and I’m _sure_ they’re in Paris.” His hand itches to rub his necklace for much needed comfort but instead, he shoves his hands deep in his pockets.

Jimin examines Tae with an indiscernible glint. It was silent between them for a few seconds, his heavy stare boring holes into Tae’s figure. Tae shifts uneasily from one foot to the other, squirming under the scrutiny. _‘..Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.’_

“I like you.” Jimin finally blurts out. Casting a quick glance around them to make sure no one could overhear, he steps closer to Tae, their noses directly in front of each other. Caught off guard by their sudden proximity, Tae moves to take a step back, eyes wide open as he splutters, his eyes narrowing.

“H-hey hol-”

“Yoongi hyung. Or Agust D. Or whatever other silly names he’s using nowadays. He lives on the corner of St. Vlad and West Ave. _Shit_ \- forgot you’re new here- it’s eight blocks down and to your right. It’s a tiny pawn shop called Petersburg Goods with the _ugliest_ fuckin’ sign - I’ve been begging them to change it for months - but my point is, you can’t miss it. When you get there tell ’em, Minnie sent ya okay? He’ll hook you up with what you need.”

Jimin leans forward, jumping up and throwing his arms around Tae’s shoulders, bringing him into a forced hug. It was slightly awkward, Jimin was short, and he had to stand on his toes to fully reach Tae’s shoulders. With his large hands awkwardly outstretched, Tae’s mind went vacant, unsure of how to deal with this new information and spontaneous embrace.

“Hug me back, you idiot! Don’t wan’ anyone to suspect anyth’ng.” Jimin hisses quietly, through his feigned plastic, toothy grin. Tae robotically brings his hands up to rest on Jimin’s lower back. He bends down slightly, allowing Jimin to plant his feet on the ground again. The hug only lasted for a brief second before Jimin pulls away, his fake bright smile still plastered on his face. His eyes holding an urgent gleam in them.

“Well see ya around, old pal. And don’t forget to check up on my grandpa like you promised!” Jimin shouts, waving enthusiastically as he brushes past Tae and strolls with confidence towards the heart of the city.

Watching him leave Tae feels a massive burst of gratitude fill his chest. _‘I won’t forget your kindness today Jimin,’_ he thinks, mentally swearing to somehow return the favor one day.

\---

Tae trudges dutifully through the cold snow, unconsciously humming a familiar tune under his breathe softly, to pass the time. The crunch of the white snow beneath his feet providing him with comfort. The people’s faces around him were gaunt and drained, many ignoring his presence while a few openly whispered at the new presence in their community as he passed them in the narrow streets.

Reaching the streets he was told to find, Tae stops, bending over to let his hands rest of his knees, huffing tiredly, the long journey he had taken was finally catching up to him. But he couldn’t rest. Not when he was this close to getting his ticket out of here. Spotting the overt, ugly sign Jimin had whined about - it really was an _awful_ looking color, _what were they thinking_ \- he made his way over to Petersburg Goods.

Lifting one of his hands up to the door, Tae knocks loudly on the rough, unpolished wooden door. Nothing happened. Tae steps back, frowning at the lack of response and tries to see if there was any movement in the store through the dusty window, _‘It’s after lunchtime, shouldn’t their store be open...’_

Going back to the door, Tae dejectedly exhales, willing to try one last time. He lifts his left knuckles to pound on the door, already resigned to spending the rest of the day outside in the snow until the store owners come back.

Right before Tae’s knuckles hit the door, it swings open, and a man’s face peers out cautiously, managing to collide straight into Tae’s heavy hand. It was like a trainwreck - impossible to look away from - as his fist crashes into the man’s nose. The sound of his hand meeting the man’s nose, and the audible noise of the impact seemed to happen slowly, reverberating throughout the street.

Tae watches with wide eyes, his knuckles pressed firmly against the man’s nose. _‘Oh shit,’_ he realizes, yanking his hand back but it was too late. The tiny, dark haired man instantaneously moves to cup his nose, letting out a low hiss of pain.

“ _Ow_ , what the fuck were you thinking? Who even knocks on a door with that kind of strength?!”

“I was only trying to let the owners know that I was here since no one opened the door the _first time_ I knocked,” Tae shoots back, huffing in disbelief, and crossing his arms in slight bewilderment, staring at the man bent over groaning. _‘It was an accident, and I didn’t even hit him that hard why is he yelling at me?’_ Tae thinks grumpily.

The black haired man retreats back into the store, grumbling under his breath, still gripping his nose tightly and leaving the door open behind him. Tae takes that as a sign to follow him in and steps into the almost suffocatingly warm, cramped room. The walls were a faded purple with colorful tapestries hanging in various places from the ceiling. Closing the door behind him, he gawks at the variety of items that are littered throughout the store.

The sound of heavy footsteps stomping downstairs startles Tae out of his stupor, watching curiously as a man with brown hair, dressed in a velvet black robe and matching slippers dashes out of the back room, holding an iron frying pan menacingly over his head. “H-hyung I heard noises, is everything okay?”

The frying pan man sluggishly whirls around the room, searching for any hint of trouble before settling on Tae. Gripping the frying pan tighter and widening his stance, the tall man narrows his eyes, “If you’ve come to rob us, you’re in for a _world_ of pain.”

The smaller man still clutching his nose, rolls his eyes, brushed past the frying pan man, and disappearing behind the curtain into the back room. The frying pan man slowly put his weapon - if he would even call it that - down glancing between the back room and Tae uneasily.

“What happened to hyung’s nose?” The brown haired man asks wearily, setting the pan down on one of the counters and clumsily rummaging through the drawers. Letting out a triumphant noise, he pulls out a pair of dusty, thick glasses, slipping them on and begins to pat down his tangled mess of hair.

“He hit me with his fist Joon-ah,” the man in the back shouts out, slightly muffled. The frying pan man or ‘Joon’ finally lifts his eyes to meet Tae’s, his laughing face quickly morphing into one of shock once properly looking at Tae.

His expression went slack, his wide eyes shining in disbelief behind his thick-rimmed specks. The only sound is of a few clocks ticking faintly in the background and the occasional groan of pain from the man in the back room.

“I didn’t even hit him that hard! It was more of a _light_ tap,” Tae grumbles, growing apprehensive as ‘Joon’ continued to gape in awe at him. The man behind the curtain comes out, his hands no longer around his nose, and Tae was able to see how bad the damage was. A dark green colored bruise was already forming in the left side of his nose, but besides that, it looked intact. ‘It’s a bruise,’ Tae deadpanned. _‘Seriously why is this man actin’ so dramatic.’_

The man stops walking, staring at Joon’s distraught expression and following his gaze to where Tae was stiffly standing, a blank expression on his face. The bruised man shoots Tae a deadly glare before hurriedly rushing by Joon’s side with a gruff yet strangely gentle voice. “Joon-ah what happened? Give hyung the word, and we’ll take this freak outside and teach him not to mess with us _Petersburg_ boys.”

The man just shakes his head lightly, letting out a chuckle of awe and disbelief. A borderline disturbing broad smile crept on his face as he grabs the bruised man and starts to shake him, growing more enthusiastic by the second. “Hyung you don’t see it?! Look at this kid! He’s exactly who we’ve been looking for!”

Tae narrows his eyes at the word ‘kid.’ “Uh, you can call me Tae.”

“Just Tae? What about a l-last name?” Joon stutters out, his wide eyes growing more prominent by the second. Tae stops himself from answering the question, his mouth clicking shut. _‘Ha no. He wasn’t going to give his secrets out to these random men that he didn’t know. He was smarter than that.’_

The men stay quiet until it is evident that Tae isn’t going to answer their inquiry. The frying pan man bounds forward eagerly, quickly wiping his sweaty hand on his robe before lifting it up to shake Tae’s hand. Tae grabs it reluctantly, shaking it just to be polite.

“Ah yes where are my manners I haven’t properly introduced us yet! My name is Kim Namjoon - or Joon for short, co-owner of Petersburg Goods and collector of the rare and beautiful. The man you almost made cry is Min Yoongi, co-owner of this _stunning_ shop.”

“.. It’s just Tae. No last name or anything else,” Tae nods, greeting them with a rigid bow.

Namjoon’s expression drops slightly, frowning a little. He releases Tae’s hand and walks over to the back room, slipping behind the curtain, muttering words beneath his breath. Tae inwardly rolls his eyes at the strange behavior, he wants to scream in frustration, _‘I just want to go to Paris..’_

“Hyung is a 93 liner, and I’m 94 by the way. And what year were you born Tae?” Namjoon’s voice flits through the curtain, a little too curiously. Okay, he was done answering questions.

“95. Look the reason I’m here is because Minnie sent me, he said you guys could help me get a ticket to Paris and told me to look for - uh what was the name again, something str- ... Oh, right - Agust D?”

Namjoon let out a bark of laughter, still searching for something hidden in the back. Yoongi huffs at Tae’s words, crossing his arms on his chest, “Minnie, huh? Wow, it’s been a while, gotta catch up with that lil’ shit. And I go by _Suga_ now.”

Tae involuntarily snorts at the ridiculous name. _Opps._ Yoongi sends Tae a flat look in response. _‘Out of all the names in the world this man picked Suga and expected me to not laugh?’_ Tired of Namjoon’s racket, Yoongi marches over to their back room, throwing open the curtain and peeking his head inside, “Joon-ah what the fuc-”

A large, antique painting pops out first, with Namjoon right behind it, struggling to carry it out. Yoongi’s tersely moves out of the way, wearing a deep scowl, and standing stiffly. Panting slightly, Namjoon heaves the painting by the counter, and sets it gently on the floor.

It is magnificent. With a full, golden frame, glimmering in the light and vivid colors, it is easily the most beautiful thing Tae had ever seen in his life. “Tae can you come here please?”

A little startled and apprehensive, Tae glances at Namjoon for a moment, before slowly inching his way over to the painting. Up close, it was even more breathtaking, the gentle strokes of the painter and the details bringing the stiff image to life.

It is of two brothers. One was older, looking to be around 13 with a handsome, regal looking face and stern pose, although his eyes told a different story. They were twinkling, standing out amongst the rest of his stiff facial expression and posture. And the other brother was younger, still only a child, his huge, dark brown eyes shining mischievously with a slight quirk of the mouth. They were dressed in clean, white matching suits, gold medals decorating their pockets against a grey background.

Tae turns to look at Namjoon and Yoongi, bewildered on why they wanted to show him this. Namjoon lets out a shriek of elation, running over to Yoongi and forcefully dragging him closer.

“Hyung do you see what I see?!”

“No,” Yoongi hisses, shrugging off Namjoon’s hold on his arm and stubbornly looking away from him.

Tae is tired of being left out of the loop and being jerked around in this shit store. He wants answers, or he’d find another way to get to Paris. “Okay _enough_ tell me what’s going on right now, or I’m leaving,” Tae bristles, hands resting on his hips.

Yoongi snorts, raising an eyebrow at Tae’s actions, “Well, he certainly has the impatience and the attitude of a royal.” Tae freezes, looking at Namjoon for confirmation, his confusion evident, and his arms fall to his sides. _‘W-wait what did h-.’_

Stepping closer, Namjoon adjusts his glasses and leans forward eagerly, examining Tae like he is some exotic animal that had been trapped in a cage, “Has anyone ever told you that you look like _the_ Prince Kim Taehyung? The youngest child of the infamous Romanov family?”

Whatever Tae was expecting, it _certainly_ wasn’t this. Tae stares dumbfounded at Namjoon; he didn’t even know what to say. _‘This has to be some sort of joke,’_ he concludes, waiting for the other two men to burst out laughing at any moment.

But they don’t. Namjoon gazes at him with a mixture of slight hysteria and a look of reverence while Yoongi refuses to spare him a glance, looking anywhere in the room but at him. _‘Me? How can they even suggest I’m a prince?’_

“Uh, no. No one’s ever told me that I look like the prince..”

“Where you from Tae? What’s your earliest memory?” Namjoon asks, his eyes not so subtly flickering between the painting behind Tae and his face.

“I don’t have any memories of when I was a young child, I was found roaming the streets when I was 7 years old and was sent to an orphanage,” Tae whispers, growing more uncomfortable at Namjoon’s joyous expression at his depressing upbringing. Namjoon looks to his left, imploring Yoongi to meet his stare.

Yoongi lets out a low hiss, begrudgingly locking his gaze with Namjooon, as they begin to have a silent argument. _‘Whatever it is, Yoongi-ssi really doesn’t want to give in.’_ Tae offhandedly muses, closely observing Yoongi’s face.

After a few moments, Namjoon’s triumphant smile grows while Yoongi’s frown grows deeper. Namjoon had clearly won. And after a few moments, with a low groan, Yoongi relents.

Stepping forward, and clearing his throat obnoxiously, Yoongi begins to speak. “You said you wanted to go to Paris, right? Well, Joon-ah and I are actually heading there in three days, and we happen to have an extra ticket…”

Tae’s first instinct is to leap around the shop singing praises to Jimin for sending him here, but deep down, he knows better. Everything comes at a price.

“What’s the catch?” Tae asks warily, suspiciously glaring at the two men.

“The extra ticket is for the long lost prince. We’re going to Paris to reunite him with his only living relative, his eldest brother, Prince Kim Seokjin. And we’re willing to give you that ticket.”

“Why? Out of the kindness of your heart?” Tae huffs, crossing his arms. The more time he spent in this shop, the less trustworthy these men seemed.

Yoongi scoffs, turning to Namjoon with a look of exasperation. “Listen kid we’ll get you to Paris, isn’t that what ya want? All you have to do is say yes and come with us to meet Prince Seokjin.”

“And then what? I’m _not_ the prince.” Tae squawks, his mind racing with jumbled thoughts. He wasn’t going to play a part in their delusions.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Namjoon interrupts Tae’s mental panic, quirking an eyebrow, and leaning in to hear his answer.

“That I could be royalty? No, I’ve never thought about it. It’s kind of hard to imagine when you’ve been living at an orphanage for over 10 years.” Tae said flatly. Wincing at his sharp tone, he wills himself to take a deep breath. _‘This could be my only chance to leave…’_

Shifting uneasily, Tae glances back, analyzing the painting in a new light. The child’s wide chestnut eyes stare back at him happily, wide and full of life. _‘Could I be the prince?’_

Yoongi murmurs, his voice laced with a mixture of emotions. “You’re a good replica of the prince. He would have been the same age as you and had those large, round eyes..”

At Yoongi’s strangely emotional words, Tae’s protest withers away, his voice stuck in his throat. The clocks chime endlessly throughout the store, time seemingly slowing down while everyone holds their breath, waiting for Tae’s response.

“.. What would happen if I said yes?” Tae mumbles, tearing his gaze away from the painting of the child. Namjoon lets out another high pitched squeal, wringing his hands together, happily. “Well we’ll leave for Paris in a few days and head over to one of my ex-lovers, he’ll get us a meeting at Prince Seokjin’s residence!”

Tae exhales loudly, letting the tension slip out of his body. “Ok. _Fine._ I’ll go with you guys on the off chance that I might be the prince. But if I’m not - and there is a high chance that I’m not - we can just tell the prince it was an honest mistake, no harm done!”

Namjoon steps forward, slapping his back in a congratulatory manner and giving him a firm handshake before excusing himself to go take care of some business, hurrying behind the curtain, lugging the delicate painting with him.

An awkward silence befalls the pair, as they shift uneasily, unsure of what to say. Finally, Yoongi strides over to the counter, pulling out a pencil and a stack of paper, already focusing on something else. It’s a clear indication for Tae to get lost. Huffing at the rude attitude, Tae strolls over to the curtain. He’d rather take his chances with the eccentric Namjoon than this asshole.

“You can stay here until we leave. There’s an extra cot upstairs.”

Tae freezes, about to enter into the back, staring at Yoongi in surprise. _‘So he’s trying to be play nice now?’_

“Thanks,” Tae mutters, frowning and ducking into the back. A part of him already regretting saying yes.

Unknown to Tae, Yoongi watches him leave out of the corner of his eye, his shoulders dropping as soon as Tae disappears. He didn’t want to admit how ruffled he was by the appearance of that kid. Namjoon thinks Tae is their best option, but Yoongi isn’t so sure; something about Tae didn’t sit right with him. He almost felt… too familiar.

As soon as the thought slipped into his mind, Yoongi shuts it down, repeating the same mantra he had been murmuring under his breath for years. _‘Prince Taehyung is dead. He didn’t make it out that night, and it’s not my fault.’_ And yet, as he recalls how Tae looked in the afternoon light, standing next to the painting of the Prince, something within his heart stirs.

\---

_The night air is frigid with the full moon glimmering darkly, the ice floating harshing through the sleepy town. Deep in the shadows of the cemetery, a low light inside a delicate glass case begins to blink faintly. It is faint, and yet there it was, the light glowing brighter and brighter by the hour._

_A body of a man long dead begins to piece itself together, slowly and torturously rising from the depths of its grave. The mouth twisted open in agony, nothing escaping, the only noises being the sound of crickets chirping incessantly in the background. As soon as a decrepit hand attaches itself to the rotting flesh of the arm, the man lurches for the glass jar; his grip tightening as he gradually regains strength._

_“Now my purpose will be finally fulfilled,” a scratchy, hoarse voice rings out, the crickets falling quiet at the menacing whisper. “I will not rest until the Romanov family is miserable once again.”_

\---

The rest of the day had gone smoothly with Tae gluing himself to Namjoon’s side. The less time he had to spend with Suga, the better. The next two days passed in a similar manner. An anxious blur of packing and making sure everything was prepared for their travels.

Thankfully, Yoongi had been too busy forging Tae’s travel papers to be occupied with him. Over the past few days, they had barely spoken to each other, only a few words here and there, usually discussing the upcoming trip.

It was late into the night, the clouds descending on the capital and covering it with its shroud, when Namjoon taps his shoulder, tiredly, mumbling about sleep and trudging up the rickety stairs. Tae had been suspicious of both of the men, but the past few days with Namjoon, they had struck up an odd sort of friendship.

Pushing past his strange obsession over Tae’s heritage, Namjoon was a great listener and was patient when answering Tae’s many questions about the rare collectibles in the store. The only question Namjoon refused to discuss was where or who they got the items from. But Tae knew better than to ask more than once, times were tough and people did what they needed to survive.

Humming a low lullaby, Tae finishes the work dutifully, taking note of the last few golden plates and silverware and placing them gently into a box. Setting down the papers, Tae walks over to the nearest window, staring outside with a faraway look on his face. _‘I wonder how Ggukie is doing..’_

Subconsciously, Tae’s fingers climb past his layers of shirts to find his delicate necklace, bringing it out into the light, thumbing it anxiously for comfort. Tomorrow would be the beginning of their journey. The _official_ start to find the answers he so desperately longed for.

As he stares outside and into the cloudy night, his mind was preoccupied with unsure feelings. _’Was it the right move to trust these strange men?’_ Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice Yoongi moving down the stairs, only pausing when he sees Tae curled up near the window.

The pale moonlight was shining behind Tae, his ethereal silhouette stunning Yoongi into momentary silence. _‘He looks like a prince’_ Yoongi’s mind sneakily supplies, his thoughts betraying him. Yoongi scowls, an idea springing to mind as Tae stands, spacing off into the distance, unaware of his presence.

Yoongi strides towards the exit, making sure to make noise as he breezes by Tae. He hears the stifled scream of surprise at his stomping, his mouth quirking into a smirk. _‘Mission accomplished.’_

Standing by the door, Yoongi tugs on his long, tattered tan coat, and grabs his favorite scarf, tightly winding it around him, feeling ready to brace the freezing cold.

“Where are you going?” Tae’s drained voice rings out.

“None of your business.” The harsh words slip out of his mouth before he could stop them, automatically tensing at his slip up. He hears Tae’s huff of anger, and he inwardly groans, it wasn’t this orphan kid’s fault that he looked like his childhood best friend. They were going to be traveling together for weeks, they need to be at least cordial with each other.

“Listen, that was unnecessary, I’m goin’ to pick up your travel papers right now and uh you can come. If you want.” Yoongi squirms a little, bracing for the cruel words that he can only imagine are about to come out from Tae.

But instead, he hears the quiet thump of footsteps as Tae strolls over to the coat hanger, grabbing his long dark brown coat and hazardously throwing on his ridiculous grey newsboy hat and slipping on fingerless gloves.

Taking that as a sign Tae is going, Yoongi yanks the door open, and they both march out into the cold. Yoongi takes the lead, trekking through the snow and taking shortcuts through the tight alleyways. It was only a short walk to the nearby empty park, their designated meeting place for this sort of exchange.

“When we get there, let me do the talking yea? These aren’t guys that should know what we’re planning.” Yoongi warns, stopping in his tracks suddenly, causing Tae to come to a clumsy stop right next to him.

Looking into Tae’s eyes, he tries to convey the importance of his words, their close proximity unintentionally finally giving Yoongi the chance to observe him up close. The cold air clearly affected Tae, the tip of his nose was pinker than expected. And Yoongi also made a mental note that Tae’s eyes were two distinctive shapes.

_‘He looks even more like the lost prince up close.’_ The incessant voice in the back of his mind commented smugly. Yoongi steps back, coughing awkwardly. Taking Tae’s silence as compliance, they walk over to a park bench next to a massive pine tree, where four guys stand laughing animatedly with drinks in hand. “Great,” Yoongi grimaces. _‘It’s always worse when they’re drunk.’_

“Heyy if it isn’t our little kitchen boy! I thought you were done asking for favors from us, Agust D oh - wait sorry, it’s _Suga_ now. He’re ya are once again at our mercy!” Hongbin calls out obnoxiously, the other men all fall over each other, cracking up like he had just told the funniest joke.

This is the last place he ever wanted to be, but he _needs_ to get Tae those papers for their plan to work. Forcing himself to relax, Yoongi chuckles sardonically, walking closer and shaking their hands firmly. “It’s been too long, old friends! Everyone of ya ugly bastards looks good except for Ravi - you still look like shit comrade.”

The men all roar with laughter, shoving the one on the far left, gleefully. Once they settle down, Yoongi puts his hands in his pockets, double checking to make sure the money was there.

“I have the money and eve’ything right here for ya,” Yoongi takes out the money, waving it in front of him, the last of what he and Namjoon had saved for the last year. They expected the trip to be pricey and with the added cost of finding someone to forge papers and fast - they need Prince Seokjin’s reward.

Hyuk nods to Hakyeon, motioning for the trade to begin. Hakyeon pulls out a small blue booklet. Stepping close enough for Yoongi to see, Hakyeon flips to the third page and lets Yoongi examine everything. _‘Looks good. It better be for the price we’re paying.’_

Pulling out the thick stack of bills, Yoongi reluctantly hands the money over to Hakyeon, taking the passport and pocketing it for safekeeping. Hakyeon scurries back to Hyuk, eagerly presenting the stack of bills. Hyuk counts the money slowly, humming a merry tune while the rest of the men shift uneasily, waiting for Hyuk’s next command. Yoongi inwardly lets out a sigh of relief as Hyuk pockets the money, deciding it was enough, taking a deep swig of his vodka.

“Pleasure doin’ business with ya Suga,” Hyuk says, and the men around him burst into hysterical laughter. Yoongi twitches, plastering a fake smile onto his face. _‘Assholes’_

“How impolite of us, we didn’ even ask! Who’s you’r pretty boyfriend?” Hyuk sneers. Yoongi’s cordial smile falls off at the question, and he smoothly moves to place himself in front of Taehyung. The rest of the men drunkenly make a show of leaning to their left, craning their heads obnoxiously for a glance at Taehyung behind Yoongi.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Tae and Yoongi both exclaim, shooting each other a quick disgruntled look before focusing on the men. Beginning to rise from the bench, the men chuckle darkly, shouting out lewd comments.

Blindly reaching out behind him, Yoongi grabs Tae’s large hand and yanks him closer. “When I tell you to run, do it,” Yoongi mutters, clasping their hands together tightly. He wasn’t one to shy away from a fight, but if any of them got Tae, his entire life would fall apart - Tae was vital to his future.

Pulling out something from deep within his jacket, Tae shakes his hand free from Yoongi’s grasp, pushing Yoongi back and charging forward daringly. _‘What is Tae doing,’_ Yoongi thinks frantically, stumbling to the floor, watching as Tae rushes forward brandishing a weapon. The glint of a long, thin pocket knife reflects back in the moonlight as Tae threatened the men fiercely.

Frozen in place, Yoongi gawks in a mixture of disbelief and slight admiration as Tae yells and thrust the knife in the men’s direction, effectively causing the men to jump back in fear. Yoongi can’t stop himself as a chuckle escapes from his lips, gathering to his feet - the sight of pretty boy Tae fighting off four gangsters while shouting vague insults was something he’d never thought he’d see.

“Didn’t know you’r boyfriend is this intimating Suga,” Hyuk throws his hands up, in mock surrender, a smirk plastered on his twisted face. The other three men laugh boisterously, no longer pretending to act scared, vodka spilling all over the ice. “You didn’t actually think we would hurt ya? C’mon _Suga_ we’re comrades!”

“Tae, let’s go,” Yoongi grunts, choosing to ignore Hyuk’s words. Tae warily backs away slowly, refusing to turn his back on the men and put the knife down. Once Tae was close enough, Yoongi reaches over to drag him away, their hands unintentionally meeting once again. As they walk away, Yoongi hears the chilling guffaws and taunts of the men.

“See that Suga! Those losers didn’t even stand a chance,” Tae shouts excitedly once they’re a safe distance away. Slipping out of Yoongi’s hand, Tae jogs in front of Yoongi to ramble and animatedly act out how he learned how to use a knife. Yoongi ignores how cold his hand feels now and shoves it deep in his pocket, focusing all of his attention on Tae’s story.

“Do you know how to fight Suga or did you have an easy life,” Tae teases, finishing his story with rosy cheeks, an effect of being out in the cold for too long. His abnormally large eyes seemed even bigger than usual, twinkling with elation and a genuine smile lighting up his face. Yoongi hadn’t seen him smile like that before.

“Not so easy.” Yoongi smiles wryly. Tae’s smile drops off of his face at Yoongi’s somber response, realizing too late the carelessness of his words. Yoongi continues to walk, hunching himself into his jacket, as Tae falls in line next to him, marching silently. The crunch of their footsteps on the snow echoed through the still town, mingling with the sound of their breathes exhaling.

“My father was one of the chef’s for the Romanov family. He worked there all of his life and died in that place too. When the castle was stormed, the rebels killed anyone they came across, and someone ran a sword through his chest. And my mother... She had already passed away. Giving birth to me.”

An awkward tension envelops them, and a tidal wave of embarrassment fills Yoongi. He is mortified. He doesn’t know _why_ he feels the need to spill his entire life story to Tae, he blurted it out without thinking, and it was too late to take it all back.

“What happened to you after your dad died? Who took you in?” Tae’s baritone voice questions softly. Yoongi threw his arms open dramatically, his small attempt to clear the air, nearly smacking Tae’s face. “No one. I grew up right here. In gutters and the streets of good ol’ Petersburg!”

“I was 13, with no family left and so I started selling stolen souvenirs and trinkets to anyone willing to buy. I learned to use my head and made a living out of it. And for the most part, I was alone, made a few mistakes here or there until I met Namjoonie - stealing a piece of bread, and the rest was history.” Yoongi smiles, reminiscing about the early days.

At that time Namjoon was only 17, who had just lost his parents in a fire and didn’t have a clue how to live on the streets. Maybe it was pity, or perhaps it was fate, but somehow Yoongi felt compelled to take him under his wing and together they eventually saved enough money to buy a shitty store with a small apartment to live and sell their goods.

“And what about Prince Taehyung? What’s your fascination with finding him?” Taehyung responds his sharp voice carrying an edge. _‘He doesn’t trust me yet… smart.’_ Yoongi muses. He had to pick his next words carefully.

“... Ya know, I knew Prince Taehyung. We grew up together in the palace. We were best friends - as much as the help could be friends with a prince. He used to scurry to the kitchens after dinner and run straight to me, begging for any extra sweets with his head tilted to the side and his small, chubby hands outstretched.”

“And afterward, he would sneak to the servants quarters asking if I wanted to play. We were inseparable for years until -” Yoongi stops abruptly, a wave of emotions rising within him.

For so long, Yoongi refused to talk about Prince Taehyung aloud, learning from an early age how dangerous it could be to be associated with the royal family. And so for years, he kept the Prince alive only in his memories.

“There’s not a day that goes by that I wish he weren’t dead.” Yoongi murmurs, shutting the conversation down. Turning the corner, he finally spots the ugly brown sign of their shop, his home. Shoving his grief aside, Yoongi walks towards his home, ready to put this night behind him. Tomorrow is the start of their journey, and after this trip, he and Namjoon would be set for life - and he’d never have to see this shitty country and his so called _comrades_ ever again.

“So neither of us has a family then,” Taehyung dejectedly says suddenly. Yoongi turns to look at him, puzzled by Tae’s outburst.

Yoongi makes a show of pointing his finger at Tae. “ _You_ don’t know that yet. The answer is in _Paris_ ,” Yoongi whispers dramatically, throwing his hands in the air and doing jazz hands. Tae’s melancholy expression breaks at Yoongi’s ridiculous attempt to cheer him up, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Thank you, Suga. For everything.”

Those five simple words chip at Yoongi’s heart. _‘You haven’t been honest with him. Tell him what's really going on,’_ the tiny voice in the back of his mind warns. Looking at Tae’s sincere expression, just for a moment, Yoongi considers it. But he can’t. For Namjoon and all that they’ve struggled through their years together - they needed this.

“Yoongi hyung.” Yoongi corrects. Tae laughs, a genuine, happy sound and he jogs ahead, over to the store door. Yoongi narrows his eyes at Tae’s surprisingly playful action. Something had changed between them. And Yoongi isn’t sure what it is.

“Yoongi hyung! Hurry up, my gloves don’t protect my hands very well!” Tae shouts, making a show of tugging on the locked door. _‘Cute,’_ Yoongi’s mind supplies sneakily, and he scowls, hurrying over to open the door.

Tomorrow everything would change. And for a split second, Yoongi almost wished it didn’t have to.

**Author's Note:**

> huge thanks to my betas chelle & bre for helping me out! you guys are the literal backbone of everything i do lmao <33
> 
> twt: @TAEGLLUV


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